


Resurrection

by emothy



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Gen, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-28
Updated: 2010-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emothy/pseuds/emothy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he wakes up from a successful surgery, Yukimura is amazed to the point of laughter when his team burst into tears around him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resurrection

-

I dream of my mother singing me a lullaby from when I was a child, and upon waking it doesn't take me long to realise why; the nurse is humming a tune as she arranges things around the room. And then I remember.

"It had better be good news with you so cheerful," I say, but the words come out thick; it's been hours since I was allowed food or drink of any kind, but she clearly understands what I've said because she smiles down at me.

"All okay," she says, with a thumbs-up. "Your operation was a success, Yukimura-kun."

All I know after she says it is that I have to get up, to feel the cold floor beneath my feet and move around; that's all that matters. I fling back the bedcover and the nurse doesn't say a word, she won't.

"Your friends are outside," she reminds me gently. "They've been waiting quite some time now."

"Are they allowed in?" I ask. Seven might be pushing it just a little.

"I'll warn them to keep it down, and try to keep the doctors away."

It's useful sometimes, having a smile that warms the hearts of women of all ages. Every nurse has bent the rules for me since I've been here; they've seen more of me than their own families in recent months I think. We share a conspiratorial grin and I duck into the bathroom to hide. It's ridiculous, because they'll all know I can't have gone anywhere, but somehow I just need them all to see, to know without having to be told.

I wait for the footsteps tracking into the room to stop, and of course Akaya is the first to worry.

"Where's buchou?" He asks.

"We've been outside the entire time, we'd know if he'd gone anywhere."

"The nurse just told us we could come in and see him!"

"There's a bathroom just over there, he's probably using it."

Typical Renji, ever the reassuring voice in our crowd. I think this is my moment, I step into the room and expect to be met with all smiles.

Instead, everyone bursts into tears. Practically. Akaya does, and Sanada whispers a harsh, "don't shame yourself in front of Yukimura!" and grabs Akaya roughly, burying Akaya's face into his chest supposedly so that I won't have to see. In reality I can see the way Sanada blinks hard and concentrates on comforting Akaya so that he doesn't have to think about anything in regards to himself. Marui sniffs unabashedly and Jackal's bottom lip is quivering. That Niou is poking at the corner of his eye and pretending it's just dust should shock me but it doesn't, not so much as seeing Renji cry does. This isn't what I was expecting at all; what am I supposed to do with this?

"It's nothing to cry over!" I say, try to provoke a few smiles. All I get for my troubles is an armful of Marui as he flings himself at me, and a mouthful of red hair.

"We thought-" Sanada begins, and turns a fierce shade of pink as he snaps his mouth shut. Later on in private Renji will inform me that the sentence would've been something akin to, 'we thought that because we had lost, so would you', which is ridiculous, and that is surely why Sanada didn't even let himself say it.

Yagyuu takes it upon himself to be the messenger; he says nothing as he holds out the medal. When I see second place written across it I have to admit initially I don't understand. It doesn't make sense that this is what they've brought back to me. It feels like a bad joke. This is supposed to be a time to celebrate.  
Suddenly all the tears make a lot more sense. How long have they been sitting around, worrying about what to tell me and how to say it?

I want to tell them it doesn't matter. They need to hear that it doesn't matter, that we can forget this one and move on to Nationals, and yet that's the complete opposite of everything Rikkai stands for, and to tell them so will undermine everything we've ever done. It does matter that they've lost. Regionals, Nationals, a friendly match - losing anywhere matters.

"You're all tired. Go home," I say. "I'll be back at school next week." And no-one can tell me otherwise.

They all understand what I mean. I can't say it's alright, but I can promise to be their captain again and get things back to normal as soon as possible. Anything else would catch in my throat if I tried to say it.

Niou takes the lead in ushering everyone out. Usually it's Yagyuu, because Niou can't stand the idea of authority or taking charge, and yet I can see that inside him there's a great potential to do just that. Unfortunately while I'm around he simply won't get the chance. He wouldn't take it if I offered it to him. You have to handle Niou with kid gloves.

But Yagyuu is still taking everything in, while Niou adapts much more quickly, and when nobody specifically asks he will take the initiative and take charge. He's also smart enough to realise that despite what I said Sanada and Renji aren't going anywhere just yet. Niou wraps an arm around Akaya's shoulders and begins to tease him as they walk out of the door together, and throws a glance back to Jackal who maneuvers Marui out with minimal fuss. Yagyuu falls into line last, and nobody who hasn't already realised and understood is given the opportunity to realise two people are still here.

"Tell me what happened," I say as I sit on the bed, because they both look like they need to get it out. They both look as guilty as sin, and although a Rikkai loss is something I least want to hear about I suppose there may be something I can learn from it.

"We kept the line-up exactly the same," Sanada begins roughly. He pauses and clears his throat. I don't know whether he's gearing himself up to explain, or just worried I think I'm being blamed because the line-up was my decision, and the line-up I chose led to a loss. I'm already well aware this is due to more than just name order.

"Marui and Jackal played Doubles Two, and won, seven games to five," Renji says. "However, they were forced to remove their wrist weights rather early on in the match in order to retain their lead."

"They need to train harder, then," I reply. Something is bothering me in the way Sanada refuses to comment on this. He hasn't praised, which means there was something wrong, and yet he hasn't criticised, or even agreed with Renji's assessment of the situation.

"Doubles One..." Renji continues. "Niou and Yagyuu decided to pose as one another on the court. They adopted each other's play styles, and once it was revealed Seigaku's Nationally ranked Golden Pair did not manage a recovery from the shock. The score was six games to four."

"Wait," I say. Information is sparse and yet so much is going on inside my head. Three of the five matches must be won in order to earn first place, and so far all I have been told is that Rikkai went out and won just like they always do. The remaining matches are the singles slots. The remaining players are Renji, Akaya and Sanada.

When I look over, both of them are bowing so low it must hurt.

"Oh."

I'm angry. There are very few reasons for people of Renji and Sanada's ability to have lost their matches, and those few reasons are unacceptable too. Sanada's face is pink from the blood rushing to his head, and I know it isn't all gravity. Sanada is always emotional going into matches. It is when he cannot overcome the emotion to obtain the win that it consumes him and he loses instead. Is this about me?

And then there is Renji. Renji, I can't even begin to fathom. It's not that he doesn't care about me, but that isn't an issue the same way it might be for Sanada during a match. Renji knows how to put aside those concerns. Some things can be rendered down to just data.

"Akaya's match was his own fault," Renji says, neatly side-stepping his own in the play order. "He underestimated Fuji Syuusuke. We all did. His tennis has become more reckless lately, distracted and vicious. He's angry."

"That sounds familiar," I say through gritted teeth. Sometimes he is just Sanada all over again.

Now this, perhaps, is my fault. We have always let Akaya run wild, but I have always made the final decisions over just how much rope he may have to hang himself by. Being here, away from them all, it seems he has finally gathered enough to do the job properly.

"Will he recover?" I ask.

"As you do," Renji replies. Will Akaya never stop looking to me for all the answers? Will I ever be able to admit to him if he asks that _I don't have_ all the answers?

I tell myself I will, but whether I will have the strength to is another matter.

"I'll deal with him," I say and try not to sigh. In all honesty I do push him off onto Renji far too often. He is a member of my team; he is ultimately my concern. "Now tell me the important part."

Tell me why you both lost. Akaya I can understand; he needs further refinement before he can continue Rikkai's legacy. Before I allow him to.

"Renji faced Inui Sadaharu," is all Sanada says. He says it in that soft voice he only reserves for Renji, as if he considers Renji the most fragile one of all of us. Perhaps just when it comes to this particular subject.

"He manipulated me," Renji says in a quiet voice filled with disbelief, and perhaps a tiny slither of pride. It was he after all who taught Inui Sadaharu how to use data tennis, this much I know. It sounds like in basic terms the student surpassed the teacher this time.

"Don't let him get away with it a second time."

"I won't," Renji says, and the way he looks at me with that determined face lets me know there was no need for me to even bother to say it. Sometimes I just can't help myself. Inui is a rival for Renji in a way that neither Sanada or I can be. And rivalries don't end so easily, not as long as you're both still breathing.

"Genichirou played Seigaku's freshman ace," Renji says. The way they speak for one another in regards to this reminds me of the distance that still exists between us when it comes to tennis. I've never lost, and they can't even bring themselves to talk about their own losses directly to me. "Time was getting on. The rest of us left for the hospital before the match began."

Tennis is a lonely game. Even with a team once you're on the court you stand alone. In doubles there is more of a connection, but each point and every ball can only go to one or the other player. Having the rest of the team sat on the benches is the closest you can get sometimes to the support of another human being during a match. It is the kind of thing Sanada feeds on.

To have gone out there completely alone for the sake of Rikkai... I suspect the match was won well before any point was played.

It's somewhat of a familiar reaction when I feel myself wanting to console Sanada and shout at him all at the same time. He's such a stubborn creature, and yet how can I dare to complain when all along he has only been thinking of me? These two most of all needed me to be able to say it was alright to have lost. I still can't do it.

"I'm sorry," Sanada says, and it sounds like the end of the world. After his loss to Tezuka he was angry, frustrated. After a loss to me I still can't understand the satisfaction he radiates. Like everything is right with the world while I am on top of it. It's like he doesn't even remember for me to have won he must have lost.

This time is different. This loss has been the most painful ever. I want to scold them both but they've both got reasons that I can see now are far too close to the heart and I am nobody to criticise. Sanada will punish himself far more than I could ever endeavour to anyway; he is already acting as though he was the only one to contribute to the loss.

"When are you going to sit down?" I ask eventually. It clearly isn't what either of them were expecting me to say. Is it selfish of me to want to take a moment to simply be happy the surgery was a success? It is a betrayal to tennis and everything Rikkai stands for if I want to take a moment to forget this whole episode and find a reason to smile?

The deciding point is that forgetting is the path that least hurts Sanada and Renji. Renji will go crazy wondering, and Sanada will wait on tenterhooks for my wrath, but at least they won't think to do so until much later on. I wait until they have both sat down; Sanada pulls up a chair to my right and Renji sits on the edge of the bed at the bottom to my left.

"You are happy, aren't you?" I ask. "About this?" I gesture vaguely down across my body. I've never been able to say it, any of it. It's always been 'this', I guess even now - afterwards - that isn't going to change.

"Seiichi!" Renji exclaims. "Of course we are."

"Of course we are," Sanada echoes, his voice low and fuzzy. He's exhausted, but his lips manage to curve upwards into a small smile. It's one of those ones he thinks are secret, one that nobody else can see.

Five minutes later, I figure I must have been reassuring enough, because they've both fallen asleep on my hospital bed. I've done nothing but sleep myself for hours and don't plan to for a while yet, but I refuse to let it annoy me. Instead I manage to spend an incredibly long period of time just watching the both of them.

When I look outside and see darkness it occurs to me that there are people out there right now who might be worrying. I slip away quietly and head to the nearest phone.

"Yukimura-kun?" The voice on the other end asks when I make my second call. "Genichirou isn't here right now..."

"I know," I reply. "Actually, he's here at the hospital with me. He and Renji have fallen asleep on my bed. If you want I can wake him and send him on home."

"Wasn't your surgery today?" His mother asks with sudden clarity. I think Sanada's bluntness comes from her.

"It was," I reply. "It was successful."

"That's wonderful," she says, and the warmth in her voice tells me she means it. That if nothing else lets me know just how much Sanada has been worrying; enough for even his mother to notice. "And the match?"

"Not so successful," I say. It's easier than saying 'lost'. I wasn't even there but it is still my loss too. Marui, Jackal, Niou and Yagyuu won their matches, and it's still their loss also.

"You can't win them all," she says, and I manage to stay polite long enough to hang up; she's allowing Sanada to stay here with me after all. Adults really have no idea. I can only imagine the reaction she gets from Sanada when she tries to use that on him. It might be quite amusing to see, actually.

Looking at the clock, I decide there's one more call I need to make. There's a timezone difference but it should be afternoon for him by now.

"What happened today was a fluke," I tell Tezuka when he answers the phone. "My team were distracted by personal feelings. I won't allow it to happen again. By the time Nationals begin I will be ready."

"By the time Nationals begin I will also be able to play," Tezuka says. "Currently only my coach is aware of it."

"It makes no difference," I reply. "My team will play the same against Seigaku no matter the line-up. I see no need to break your confidence over the matter. After defeating Rikkai I would hope you don't dare do any less than reach the finals alongside us. Warn your team that we will take them to hell and back if you truly intend to aim for the Nationals championship."

Clearly Tezuka believes there is nothing further to be said because it is at that point I am met with the dial-tone. I'm used to Tezuka's ways, but it does make me laugh that he has nothing to say to that.

-


End file.
